Poem 3
Passion
Huddled in bed she gazes thru the window
the luminous drawings made visible by the
hanging drops of dew in the spiderwebs.
These days, the morning lights
have a new dancing rhythm and
new mind landscapes are on the rise.
It is Spring time! Rebirth time!
A new moon emerges to eclipse
her old habits and retrieve her life’s passion,
that grantor of constant refuel.
The drops of dew have perished now
with the warmth of the early sun’s rays,
along with her perceptions of time.
Her passion does nor know to divide days
in routines, in fragments of time to be
senselessly filled. It is a fluid intense fervor
nourished by her insights.
Tending the fields of the mind,
she will bring new visions to sprout.
She knows that state of the mind,
when that rebel becomes an accomplice.
She knows those new visions will grow
in her, as perennials,
She knows.